Aftereffects and Reality
by Kitsunefan203
Summary: New York is safe, but S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't safe from an Archer's fury, not even Nick Fuery. Especially faced with an angry man who wants to know WHY he was lied to about Phil Coulson. Leading to some fluff in a Holding Cell for trying to take out Nick Fuery. Merely fluff in the matter of that Phil Coulson did NOT die at Loki's hand XD Take it as you will. T for mild language


Disclaimer: I hold no legal copyright of any or all characters used in this work of fan fiction, purely for the use of fan purposes to entertain and maybe cause a few tears. Purely for fluff purposes. All characters used are copyright Stan Lee and Marvel Comics.

AN: GASP! Something non Final Fantasy/KH?! Something not fluffy in the way of Cleon!? ITS THE END OF THE WORLD. Not. This merely came while talking about something random related to something of the Avengers brought up. Mainly saying that Coulson isn't dead, and then someone in a Chat I was in said, "just Hawkeye storming into Fury's office and roaring in his face "YOU LET ME THINK HE WAS DEAD!" and Fury even being a teensy bit afraid" And from there, this plot bunny was born. For credit for this plot bunny goes to AnimeLover147 whom I was talking to along w/others on Skype. XD Her and others keep me in plot bunnies.

Enough rambling! Onto the fluffy angst!

* * *

Things had managed to calm down, given the fate of humanity had nearly collapsed around their ears, only to have things become explosive. Clint had to hear it first from Natasha about Phil Coulson. Someone had told Clint about that something had happened to Phil, being lead to believe that Loki had struck the man down. But S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ wasn't prepared for the Hell that was coming its way as people were thrown across the room. Their screams heard as the sounding of a twang from a bow plucked out and hit Agents into walls. Pinning their clothing to the wall. There was no use stopping him now. Nick Fuery was in for a world of hurt. And possibly, an arrow to that other eye. How it had all come to Clint preparing to storm in his Superior's office and ask the question, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN COULSON ISN'T DEAD!?" Not that he didn't mind the fact that his closest companion, and interest wasn't pushing up daises. From a wound to the chest by a Demi God. He was grateful, but right now, to learn that the man was alive. It pissed Clint off. Worse then the time he had been sent off on a mission where he had to take out either the child held in the enemies arms, or risk the enemy killing the child. Right now, Clint was truly furious and was ready to tear S.H.I.E.L.D. apart to find out the honest truth.

But of course, a pair of womanly mountains were blocking his path, as were the arms crossed across those mountains.

He couldn't be stopped by 'em, "Move," Clint remarked calmly as he stood inches from her face, "I just want to talk to Fuery. Alone. He has something he has to explain to me. And I just need five minutes alone with him."

She couldn't and wouldn't be moved, "Is this regarding your news you found out about Agent Coulson?"

Clint didn't flinch, "Maybe."

"Stand down, Agent," neither person heard Fuery walk up behind the female agent, "Agent Hawkeye, I suppose I have somethin-" there was no more time for talk; the tip of an arrow was pointed at the man's throat, "Let's take this into my Office then."

XXX

Coulson was unaware of the fact of what had all happened upon Clint's arrival into the HQ. He had gone about his daily routine, blissfully unaware, but the moment he heard the alarms going off; warning bells started going off. The alarms hadn't been raised this loudly since the time that Clint had been given too much adrenaline, and was going around HQ trying to shoot it off. Literally. Some Agents left because they couldn't work with a madman with a bow.

Alarms, and people were running around.

Weapons drawn.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Phil Coulson could only pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh, muttering one name, "Clint."

XXX

Surrounded behind him, above him and beside him, almost nose to cheek with him, Clint could feel the cold steel of the muzzle of the guns pointed at him as he pointed the tip of angry explosive tip arrow at Fuery's face. Particularly his good eye. The moment Fuery had laid out all that really taken place; that Coulson had faked his death to give the Avengers something to fight for. And was kept in hiding to insure to Loki that the man had gotten a victory over them. Phil Coulson had only since returned to work, and hadn't been allowed contact with the archer. Something that had hurt Coulson to do. He was Clint's handler as it was. Not having contact with his charge hurt him as if he was disowning his own son. And now, not telling Clint himself that he was alive. That hurt more then having to do that to him.

Pulsating anger was rippling through Clint as he held the arrow at bay. "You son of a bitch. You knew. You knew this whole time. THIS WHOLE FUCKING TIME! WHY!? WHY DID YOU HIDE IT FROM ME!?"

Fuery kept his hands up in the 'Do no harm' position, "Because if you had known once you were out of Loki's control...you would've shut down. I know how you get when you shut down."

Guns became cocked and ready to take the shot as they saw Clint push in close against his face, "That time in Libya. That kid. It wasn't your fault. It was take the shot, or have thousands of lives be lost, including that Nuclear Physicst. Things happen. Things can't be unsaid or undone. Or erased."

Clint could feel his chest rising and falling angrily, "Kinda like unsaying or undoing the hurt you've caused me. The distrust I've earned in you for hiding the truth from me."

"Clint."

Something seemed to cause the man to slightly loosen, a voice he knew all too familiar, like a child knows the voice of their Father, "Come on, Clint, you're better then this. Stop being a child and let Agent Fuery go. Or I'll have to report your actions to the Disclipinary Committee. And then you'll really know what its like to not have my companionship for an extended time."

Fuery watched for any changes in Clint, he could see the man's fingers wavering on the arrow. Something Clint never did, there were signs of tightened muscles loosening in his arms. The fire that had been formed in his eyes upon hearing Fuery's side of things was dimming. His strong back was loosening and weakening, almost as if the man was surrendering.

And he was.

He gave up the fight.

Backing up, he felt his arms being pulled behind his back as zip ties were tied about his wrists and his quiver of arrows and bow were taken from him as well. Other armed Agents moved forward to check on Agent Fuery to insure he was in good standing. When no harm was seen done, Clint was forcefully removed from the office. But as he seemed to move past Phil, it all seemed to slow down for him. Phil Coulson so that there was remorse, pain, loss, and longing intermixed with a dozen other emotions.

He had really screwed up.

There was no way that Phil would forgive him for this screw up. But as the slow motion started, it ended as he was pushed forward to walk the cat walk towards the Disciplinary Wing of the HQ. He hadn't been there since he had been a young man. Who knew S.H.I.E.L.D. had no sense of humor about a few well placed arrows to make out an arrow on an air vent pipe pointed towards Fuery's office.

XXX

And as if nothing had happened, everything got back to clockwork.

Agent Fuery found himself walking towards Phil, "He'll only be in a holding tank for the next 48 hours. Let him cool his head off."

Phil couldn't be bothered to face Fuery, "Why didn't you tell him sooner? Or at least tell me he was back?"

"Because..."Fuery turned on his heel, away from Phil, "If we had told him sooner, he would've let his emotions about you get the better of him. And New York, let alone the known world of Humanity wouldn't be standing right now because some archer with a heart for you let his emotions get the best of him."

XXX

A Holding Cell was what it was everyone thought it was, but it wasn't like what you'd find in a Police Station. Where they hold unruly prisoners brought in that need to "sleep it off" from being caught in a drunken brawl. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Holding Cells were dark, and all that. No beams of light were able to pierce the dark room, giving the one being held in it a chance to let their minds wander. Some came out mad, mad in the insane form of the sense. Some came out calmer then when they went in. Clint used it to reflect on things.

Memories.

Images of Phil.

Some were of how the man would smile when he was younger when he first shot his arrow into a target, dead center, on first try. How the man had looked upset, and angry at the same time when he got the news of his prank. And how the man had looked when he had heard that Clint would be going to Libya. A country known for danger around every corner. And none too friendly to S.H.I.E.L.D. The way Phil's hand shake had been the day he gone on that mission. It held so many emotions; worry, fear, unshed tears for his charge, and, longing. Longing to keep the man from leaving. He wanted to just keep him locked under his desk away from Fuery's plans.

But the one that came on strongest was the image he had created in his mind when he was told how Coulson had died. He imagined how the man's face must have looked. Drawn, scared, alone...alone without Clint.

Something that he didn't want even now as he slammed a balled fist against the wall he sat against. But he couldn't hide the hiss of pain that rang through his hand.

Great.

He'd be out of commission more then the 48 hours now.

Phil would never forgive him.

But he knew that Phil would find ways to forgive him, but he had crossed the line this time. Curled up against the wall, he babied the hand he had slammed. Quietly, tears streamed down his face. Tears, he hadn't cried when he had heard the damning news about Phil. This dark room, it was putting his mind in a place he didn't want to be. It was like being under Loki's control again, but this time, he'd be out in a couple of days. And this time...Phil was alive. So why was he crying? He knew why. Because his mind had created a lie about the man, and he need Phil to prove to him that that lie wasn't reality. That he was here. There was bullet wound through his chest. There was no stained jacket and dress shirt. There was no death certificate. He had to know.

XXX

"Agent Coulson?" some of the men guarding the Holding Cell stood at the ready when they saw him coming forward, "We're on strict orders to not let Agent Hawkeye out of the Holding Cell."

Phil waved them off as he showed them his badge, "I'm not letting him out, I just need to talk to him."

As if Phil hadn't had the feel of cold steel pointed at him once before, "I promise you, boys. I'm just going to talk to him."

Standing down upon the man's flash of badge, and papers given to show that Phil would be allowed just "talking" to Clint, "Carry on, sir."

The doors leading to it slowly opened, and as Coulson walked through them, a memory flashed back through of coming upon young boy Clint, pouting in the corner. When he came upon the room, he assumed he'd find the same sight again. What he found was Clint curled up on his side, cradling his busted hand, sobbing quietly to himself. Calling Phil's name over and over. Cursing, and damning Loki's name to the high heavens in every language he knew. Clint was a broken man.

_Damn you, Fuery_.

As Phil walked in, even the sounds of his dress shoes slapping across the floor couldn't stir the man. Not even the man's hands reaching down to pull him up into his arms, trying to pull him onto his feet. But Clint was determined to stay near the floor. Sliding down to the floor, he pulled the man's head into his lap. Running his fingers, gingerly through the man's short locks. When Clint was ready to realize Phil was there, holding him. Much like he had after Clint had broken down into tears apologizing and begging to not be given to a different Handler when he had been a child. These tears were a child's, and a grown man's tears. Tears of a broken hearted man that had thought he had lost his greatest confidant. Only to have it lie to his face that the lie wasn't truth.

Phil could feel Clint curl up closer against his lap, "I'm here, Clint...I'm really here...It'll be alright. I'm not going anywhere. Too much life left in this old man's body to let it all end now."

XXX

Clint was silent as he let his tears and sobs trickle off, calmed by the man's gingerly dancing fingertips, "You're not an old man, old in tricks, but still young at heart, body, and spirit."

Phil chuckled as he let it sink in; he truly was nothing but a young man, especially the way he fan boyed over Steve,"Maybe I am, but I'm still alive. I'm right here. If you need to, you can even check me for bullet holes or scarring of a bullet wound."

Clint's fingers tightened against the man's pants leg, "Clint..." he waited for the man to raise his head as he watched Clint's eyes dance in amazement as he watched Phil undo his jacket and shirt, moving aside where Loki had said to have shot him.

Clint looked closely at the man's chest; his fingers softly and gingerly traced where there would've been a wound, had it happened. Even taking to smelling the man's clothes. No gunpowder residue, no metallic like iron smell of blood on his clothes. Then he moved to touching the man's face.

He was here.

He really was here.

"You stupid, stupid man..." Clint took no hesitation in kissing Phil silly, even as tears rolled down his face.

Tears of joy that this was for real. His lie wasn't this reality, this truth in front of him, _that _was his reality. This beautiful man in front of him was the reality. Unmarred, unscarred. This was reality. A reality, that he could endure for the next 48 hours.


End file.
